Custody
by TimeFactor
Summary: "According to this most recent test, Alfred F. Jones has more German ancestry than any other ethnic group in the United States..."


**Author's Notes:**

**- random crack idea (that turned slightly serious), one shot, no basis except _very outdated_ 2000 United States demographics**

**- I may expand this, but I don't see myself doing so in the near future**

* * *

Custody laws were supposed to make sense. They were supposed be reasonable. Or at least...that's what Germany thought when he established them. He would probably never have to worry about those laws himself given his nature, but now they were applying in a way he had never anticipated. And Prussia was laughing, harder than he ever laughed in his life.

Approximately ten minutes ago, Germany had opened his door to find four people on his lawn. Two were shady men in dark suits. The others were his friends, America and England, although they were behaving a lot differently, in civil terms at least.

England was arguing with one of the unknown men near the front gate. Germany couldn't make out their conversation, but he could definitely hear the Englishman's colorful, explicit language. He was shouting America's name but couldn't proceed any further with the unknown man holding him back.

America himself seemed lost in his own little world, a lot more than he normally was. His eyes wandered all around as he giggled at anything that caught his attention. The only thing keeping him stationary was the other man holding his hand. Germany wondered if he knew about the American's abnormal strength.

"Good evening, Mister-"

"Ludwig," he interrupted. "I prefer my first name if you're using that alias."

"Very well, Ludwig. May we come in?"

Germany nodded and let the two men inside, instructing them on how to reach the living room. Before he shut the door, glanced once more outside. England was now locked outside the gate, tightly clenching the iron bars. The only reason he didn't move was because of the handcuffs binding him there, though that didn't stop him from struggling. The man keeping watch on him was sitting nearby on a stone bench and lighting a cigarette.

"Let me go this instant! I am NOT supposed to be treated this way!"

The man blew a puff of smoke. "I will, I will. Just as soon as we're done here."

Germany didn't have to listen any further. England would've ranted forever if he waited. He then headed to the living room, fearing the moment he saw his brother chatting with his guests and offering them a few beers.

"Best beer in Germany!" he proudly exclaimed. "It's the greatest! Just like me! Kesesese!"

The man didn't react, but he still accepted the offer. Then he smacked America's hand reaching for a bottle, the boy whimpering when he did so. "No," he said sternly. "You're too young for that."

"What's wrong? It's not like he paid attention to his own legal drinking age anyway!" He raised his glass. "Besides! You're in Germany! You're old enough in my book!"

"I'm afraid it's more complicated than that."

"Then explain," said Germany sitting down next to his brother. "I don't want an angry Englishman causing a scene outside my house longer than necessary."

The man directed the brothers' attention to America admiring all the furniture in the house. The boy soon squealed when he saw Germany's Hovawart enter the room.

"Ooo~! Can I pet the doggie?!" he asked pointing. "Please, please, pleeeaaase!"

The man looked at Germany who gave an assuring nod. "Okay," he said releasing his hand. "Just don't go wandering off. And don't hurt him either."

"Yay!" He ran towards the canine and began hugging him. "Who's a good boy~? Who's a good boy~?" He laughed while receiving licks to the face, then reached for a nearby tennis ball and tossed it across the room. "Fetch!" The dog eagerly ran off and returned with the ball. "Good boy~!" he said petting his head.

Typical America, Germany thought. He always went crazy when he saw just one of his dogs. And nobody should ever stand in his way if all of them were in the same room. Germany wondered if he inherited that trait from someone. Perhaps England, but apparently the only things he found cute were his imaginary friends. Also, why didn't America get his own dog if he loves them so much? He already had a whale in his backyard and an alien (if he was even considered a pet). Maybe the latter was against the idea?

"It appears your friend here is suffering from a severe case of amnesia. And not only that, he's regressed to the mindset of a child."

"I don't see a difference," said Prussia observing America. "He always does this when he sees Berlitz."

"Well then perhaps it's a subconscious sign that he's recovering."

"And how does this involve me?" asked Germany.

"Obviously he can't survive by himself so we decided to send him back to his family until he recovered." He set his bottle on the table. "But given what he is, 'family' is a _very_ complicated term."

"But England's right outside. He's the one who raised him since he was a child."

"He was our first choice, but..." The man paused to reach into his jacket. He then pulled out a few papers and handed them to Germany. Prussia also leaned his head to read them. "But then we looked at these."

"DNA test results?" Germany didn't even need read further than the biggest percentage before it felt like his mind shut down. "What the...?"

_1. German - 15.2%_

"According to this most recent test, Alfred F. Jones has more German ancestry than any other ethnic group in the United States. So essentially, you're more of his father than any other candidate."

Germany didn't respond. He reread the statistic to himself multiple times. No way this could be right.

Meanwhile, Prussia was breaking into hysterics. "Germany's a dad! Kesesese! I guess that also makes me _Uncle_ Prussia now! Kesesese! I have to tell the others about this!"

Germany was too paralyzed to stop his brother from retrieving the phone in his bedroom. "But I'm _younger_ than America," he said gritting his teeth. "This makes absolutely no sense!"

"Perhaps 'father' wasn't the best way to describe your relationship. But nevertheless, you're his closest relative and our files show you're more than capable of taking care of him."

"Maybe...Maybe there was a mistake! Ja! That could be it!" He had to be right! After all, modern technology isn't free of error.

The man shook his head. "We repeated the test twice at England's request. We still got the same results." He waited for a response but continued after a few seconds. "America wasn't born like the rest of you. He has no indigenous people. Instead he relies on those who helped create him."

Prussia soon walked inside talking on his cell phone. "Ja! He's getting custody of amnesiac America! Hold on!" He pressed a button. "Okay, go!"

"Is this true?" asked a certain Spaniard over the speaker. "Germany, that is so sweet of you! If it were one of the Italies and I was chosen, I would've died of happiness!"

"Hold on!" exclaimed Germany. "I never agreed to anything yet! What if I refuse? What happens then?"

The man glanced at America still blissfully playing with Berlitz. "Well according to the test, he'd then go to Ireland. If he refuses, we're going to have to hand him over to the African nations. If for some reason none of them accept him, _then_ England will finally gain custody..."

Germany was hesitant. He knew Ireland well, but he also knew his relationship with England was shaky to say the least. If Ireland gained custody of America, Germany knew England would probably take this as a sign of betrayal towards their friendship.

And Germany barely even knew the African nations. Some were descended from adopted relatives during his colonial days, but Germany never pursued any further communication with them.

"C'mon!" said Prussia wrapping his arm around his brother. He forced Germany to turn his head at America. "How can you say no to that adorable face~? Berlitz already considers him part of the family!"

"No one's judging you," said the man. "You have the right to refuse if that's your decision."

Germany wasn't even thinking anymore as he stood up. "Okay, fine. I'll take him. But...can I at least file joint custody with England?"

He shrugged. "I don't see why not. It would surely make things a little easier for him."

"Did you hear that?" Prussia shouted into the phone. "Germany's _marrying _England! Who's the mommy?! Kesesese! Call France! We'll plan the wedding together!"

Germany was starting to dread his decision. How was he going to explain this to the other nations?

* * *

"So...you're my Papa?"

America was holding onto Germany's sweating hand, though thankfully his glove disguised this fact. He was examining the German's features, particularly his face. Germany himself was blushing and trying to avert his gaze, but he couldn't hide from the boy's curiosity.

"Haha! Your hair and eyes are the same color as mine!"

"Y-Yes... I'm glad you noticed..."

Speaking to children was hard enough for Germany. Speaking to a child in a man's body was a whole new level of difficulty and awkwardness.

"How is this going to work exactly?" asked England.

After explaining the situation, the Englishman had reluctantly agreed to share custody of America. He was angry with Germany at first but eventually expressed his gratitude that it was him instead of the other candidates, especially Ireland.

"Well," said Germany, "he can live with you and I'll just provide my financial contribution as my laws dictate."

"That sounds fair."

"Wait," said America looking at both of them, "my papas aren't going to live with me?"

England had him sit on the couch. "Um...yes, unfortunately. Your...father...and I live very far away from each other because of our jobs."

"But...can't you just get a new job?"

He chuckled. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, America. If it were that easy, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"Then...can I stay with Germany?"

England almost fell back. Germany was speechless. Prussia was giggling in the background.

"W-Why?"

"Because I like it here! And the doggie is really cute!"

"We have three more, a cat, and some birds!" exclaimed Prussia. Germany had to excuse himself as he dragged his unhelpful brother into the next room.

"But you haven't even seen my house yet!" said England. "You've been there before! Maybe you'll like it better!"

"No!" said America flailing his arms. "I don't wanna! I wanna stay here!"

He's starting to throw a tantrum, England thought. That was very unlike him, even during his actual childhood. Was America truly experiencing amnesia or something different entirely?

"Alright, alright. You can stay." He sighed. "I'll just need to have a talk with Germany first..." Before he left, England grabbed the remote and switched on the television. "Here. Perhaps you can practice your German while you're here." He searched for a program and soon stopped on an American cartoon with German voiceovers. It left the boy mesmerized.

"Hehe... Their voices sound funny..."

* * *

One week had passed and America still hadn't shown any significant progress in remembering who he was. Germany expected this though. He hadn't actually tried to provoke his lost memories. He just wanted to get accustomed with him living in the house for now.

The first few days were difficult for both of them. America almost cried once thinking he was being abandoned. The worst part was that Germany was only getting his mail. If this was how America reacted to being left alone for one minute, Germany feared how he could possibly maintain his other commitments. There was no way in hell he'd let Prussia substitute for him, not after last time.

Thankfully, Prussia quickly took pity on his brother and intervened. When Germany left for work, he played with America in games resembling warfare. Soon the boy was overjoyed to play with his "Uncle Prussia". The former Prussian also returned those feelings, stepping up the intensity each day. It had been such a long time since he had a new friend to spend time with.

England had stopped by twice, each time bringing a case filled with mementos of America's time with him as his ward: baby clothes, uniforms, paintings, toys, and more. They all elicited a reaction, but none of them ever extended beyond "It think I've seen this before". England even went as far as asking Lithuania for the location of America's damaged musket yet he still received the typical response. Germany ended up having to quickly escort the Englishman outside just so America wouldn't see or hear his wailing.

"You sure you don't want butter or jam with that?" Germany watched America devour the breakfast basket that had been filled with fresh bread rolls. "At least you still have your trademark appetite..."

Prussia was watching the boy from across the table. "It's not like he had a good sense of taste anyway." He turned his head to Germany. "Maybe you can fix that, West?"

"I'm not going to change who he is! That would be unethical." He glanced down at his coffee. "And I promised England..."

"Then what _are _you going to do? _Become_ England? Ha! That's rich!"

"Well...I..."

"Y'know, I can only do so much by trying to make him remember the days I trained him. I don't want to admit it, but he did manage to outclass me at the shooting range yesterday."

"I shot really far!" said America proudly.

"Yes, but you still don't know _why_ you're so good at it."

"Because you taught me!"

His eyes narrowed. "_When _did I teach you?"

"Um...yesterday?"

He sighed. "See, West?"

"It's not like we have many powerful and significant memories together." Germany absently looked up. "Not very pleasant ones anyway..."

"Well England's childhood therapy didn't work. Actually, I think it just made things worse judging by that salty puddle I had to clean up."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I don't mean to sound heartless, but maybe America needs some...'negative encouragement'?"

"I don't know... I'm not exactly fond of remembering those times either." He glanced at the boy who still continued to eat. "Besides, he's too young and innocent...mentally speaking."

"Oh, c'mon! You know how fast he grew up! I'm sure he can handle it!"

"Yeah!" said America. "I can handle it!"

Prussia ran around the table to hug his so-called nephew. "Uncle Prussia says it's okay! Don't leave your son disappointed, West!"

Germany shuddered at the mention of "son". He knew Prussia only said it to get a rise out of him, but it was still disturbing to hear. He wished he'd told America that their relationship was more like cousins, but "Papa" was already solidified.

"Okay...but only at a pace I deem acceptable! I don't want to scar him too bad or worse: traumatize him enough to make him regress even further into an infant..."

* * *

"Hehe... Who's the guy with the funny mustache?"

Germany was showing America a dusty album from the attic. It used to be kept under lock and key because of how uncomfortable Germany felt from just holding it. Now he was enduring the experience for America's sake.

"He was...my former boss. He made me do a lot of crazy things...things I'm not very proud of."

"If you didn't like it, why didn't you say so?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't that easy. He had a powerful sway over the people. It was difficult to go against him."

"Was he mean?"

"...Depending on who you ask. Most would say yes."

"What about you?"

"I said he was crazy."

"Are all crazy people mean?"

"...I would assume so."

"So what did he make you do?"

Germany flipped a few pages and cringed slightly when he reached a collection of photos. "This is just one of them..." He had expected America to shriek in horror, yet he simply stared at the photos expressionless. Germany didn't even realize it until it was too late when the boy grabbed the album and began browsing its contents even further. "Are you...remembering something?"

He was staring intently at each picture. "No... Maybe... I don't know."

"Do you recognize those people?"

He shook his head. "It's just that...I want to help them...if I can."

"You and your friends already did," he said retrieving the book. "No need to worry yourself about it."

America remained silent.

Germany wondered if he was truly starting to recover. America was certainly handling this situation in a mature manner. Or maybe he was just relying on an adult characteristic he somehow managed to retain?

"We'll stop for now," he said closing the book. "I believe you've seen enough for today."

"N-No! I want to see more!"

"You don't need to put on a brave face. I understand some of this is disturbing to look at."

"But-!"

"I said I would determine the pace we'd do this," he said angrily, "and I say we've done enough!"

He slouched.

After putting away the album, Germany took America's hand and led him downstairs. "C'mon. Prussia's probably getting anxious about that fort you promised to build with him."

In truth, America wasn't feigning bravery. Germany just couldn't handle the pressure anymore.

* * *

"Hey! Papa! Wake up!"

Germany only opened his eyes halfway to find the dark image of America shaking him and whispering into his ear. His eyes then went wide when he saw the familiar object in his arms.

"Ah! How did you get that?!"

America nervously looked away.

"America! Answer me this instant!"

"I...I'm sorry," he said meekly. "I only wanted to look."

Germany sat up rubbing his eyes and then looked at the digital clock on his wall. 04:00, not that far from when he was supposed to wake up today. He looked back at America who was slowly shying away from him.

He sighed. "How much did you read?"

"A lot of it... I'm sorry."

Germany was trying to hide his irritation. "I...can't say I blame you. England did warn me that you were the awfully curious type."

"Are you...going to ground me?"

He stared at the boy's deeply ashamed face. "Well...you did go against my orders, but you still owed up to your disobedience." He then looked away. "I guess I can say that I'm...proud of you for being responsible."

"Really?" he said smiling.

He nodded. "But you're still receiving a small punishment later. I'm too tired to think of one right now."

America leaped at Germany and hugged him tightly. "Hehe! I don't care! As long as you aren't mad, I'm happy!"

Germany blushed from the considerate thought, but hopefully America didn't notice within the darkness of the room.

"Now what else did you want to ask me? There must be something else on your mind if you woke me up this early."

America turned on a lamp and handed the album to Germany. He then sat down next to him and opened the book to a section filled with newspaper clippings.

"Most of them were in German and I didn't know what a lot of the words meant."

"Are you sure you want me to translate?" he said looking through the titles. "Some of these are very offensive...especially to you."

"I already knew that from some of the pictures."

If America was hiding his emotions, he was doing an astounding job. Why wasn't he expressing the slightest bit of anger or even sadness?

"America," he said looking at him, "can I ask you something first?"

"Okay."

"Why are you so curious about this? One of the reasons I was originally against showing you this book was because I knew it was going to end up hurting you in the end."

He shook his head. "No it's not. I just want to know what went wrong. Why did it happen? Then maybe I'll know how to fix it so everyone can be happy."

Germany didn't respond, baffled by how America's new innocence made him seem like his old self. After some thought, he tilted the book and let it fall to the last page much to America's protest.

"Hey! What are you doing-?!" He soon stopped when he saw the large photo before him. "Huh?"

It was Germany and America standing in what seemed like the charred ruins of a building. The former's clothes were in terrible condition, tears everywhere and on the verge of falling apart. Dirt covered his skin yet he still smiled as he shook the American's hand.

Germany reached into the pocket and pulled out a document that had been hidden behind the photo. "I think it would be better to read this instead. You're the one who wrote it and gave it to me after all."

"Really?" he said moving closer to him. "Okay then."

As Germany read, America slowly fell against his arm. By the time he reached the second page, the boy was already sleeping. Germany carefully tucked him in bed and then headed out with the album. Before shutting the door, he glanced back at the document still resting on the nightstand.

"I do owe you greatly for that. It helped me get through just when I had almost given up hope..."

Germany smiled. He accepted the fact America could possibly never recover his memories. Sure, there would be major adjusting ahead, but there wasn't much to worry about. The boy may have forgotten his identity, but it still didn't change who he was at heart.

"Gute Nacht, Alfred."


End file.
